Indigo

Today I woke up and felt different it had nothing to do with the change in the month or the warmer temperatures. Today was just different. Being away from the city you tend to notice little things like that. How, the noise of rushing cars and shouting people doesn't echo through these fields. It's funny, how this country air affects people. People like me that is. Funny how wrangler jeans and cowboy boots change us deep within without us realizing it. Funny how the smell of horse dung and hay provides better therapy than the pills downed at home. Funny how when atop a saddle it feels as if nothing can break the bond between horse and rider. It really is silly, especially coming from the mouth of a city slicker. You would hardly recognize me. I tread side by side with bronco, mustang, mare, or stallion and they tread by my boots and spurs. We share a connection that I don't understand yet.

Indigo. Indigo Skye is what I call him, the horse that changed me. He was nothing but a wobbly colt when things turned sour for me, I wouldn't meet him till some years later.

I remember our first meeting, he glared at me with his brown eyes, I wore designer jeans, red heels, and a very expensive silk top. I was downright City, if you know what I mean. I gave him the glare in return making my assumptions that there was no way in hell was I going to ride him. I didn't have any choice in the matter however. Ma and Pop and sent me to Grandpa's for a reason and I wasn't getting out of it anytime soon. Grandpa introduced us, just a gangly three year old he was and with no name. Grandpa said it was up to me and the horse to decide. Though at the time, I assumed he would offer no help this dapple grey horse was supposed to have a personality? and feelings? No animal could have feelings- it was just an animal or so I assumed.

He changed me and I won't soon forget it, he changed me so much I never returned back home but stayed with Grandpa and Indigo. I still stay even if it is the end. Even though grandpa has moved on to greener pastures and Indigo now spends most days waiting for those pastures. My kids are growing and even care for their own horses, but they don't have that bond that me and Indigo shared. Today they still don't know the whole story of us, but seeing how my days are numbered, I don't want our story forgotten and left unspoken.

These are the memoirs of a city-slicker cowgirl and one not so Indigo Skye